Through Darkest Zymurgia!

After the practical details of breaking camp were attended to, the second day of the journey was much like the first. I spent the day pestering the Zymurgians with my questions, and they began starting to avoid me. Philpott spent much of the day riding nearby, listening to the questions and answers; he seemed more at ease than he had the day before. More relaxed when Asha was nearby as well; at least once I saw them riding side by side, talking merrily. Apparently their discussion of the evening before had cleared the air in some way. I didn't mention the snake to anyone; finding wildlife in one's bed is an unremarkable phenomenon in the wild, and the topic never arose.

By the end of the day we were well into the wilderness. Zymurgia is a large, sparsely inhabited country, and most of the inhabitants are gathered into the townships which dot the landscape like currants in a scone made by a particularly stingy baker. The road was well-maintained, though, and the trees, while tall and broad, were set far enough apart to give the woods through which we rode a park-like air. The leaves were green, and the light filtered through them was green as well; it was like travelling through an emerald.

We reached our second camp after an easy day's ride, men on donkeys travelling faster than carts loaded with barrels of beer. I asked Mukden whether we should travel on towards the next camp along, but he rejected the idea. One stage was easy, but two would take too long. He might attempt it in an emergency, but not otherwise. I did not argue with him; I was glad for the rest, not yet having been broken to the saddle as it were. Still, it made for a long evening. Sitting around the campfire chatting is pleasant enough, but I had an inkling that I might find our hosts disinclined to chat with me.

I had reckoned without Hodgins, who had his own ideas about how to pass the time on the trail. Once camp was properly made, he dragged some rocks together near the fire, put a box lid across them, and pulled out his deck of cards. He had an attentive audience before he had finished shuffling, and soon Carbuncle, Fox, and I had sat down to a game of whist with him. Cadbury, Philpott, Asha, and Mukden sat nearby; the two Zymurgians paid particular attention, having never seen playing cards before. We played several hands, and then Carbuncle and I resigned our seats in favor of Asha and Mukden. While Hodgins explained the rules to them, Carbuncle dug out a wine bottle filled with Zymurgian spirits and passed it around. As novices, our friends made their share of foolish mistakes and had their share of beginner's luck, and if any large predators were inclined to investigate the camp I am sure the raucous laughter persuaded them to go elsewhere. The party broke up, late and happy, and we stumbled to our beds.

The following morning I found a toad in my left boot. I never put on my boots without looking inside first, even when at home in Angland; it is simply second nature after so many nights on the trail. I am glad I checked them as usual. Had I attempted to draw on the boot without looking, I might have injured the poor creature. It seemed an odd place for a toad to go to ground, especially as the boot had been standing upright, but I had seen stranger happenings in strange lands, and didn't ponder it for long. I did comment on the quantity and diversity of the wildlife at breakfast, as I recall, citing the snake and the toad as examples, and if Asha smiled and Philpott chuckled, well, there was nothing so odd about that.

If my readers think that I was being more than usually slow, I can only beg them to consider the circumstances. I am no longer so young as I once was, and a day in the saddle is tiring even to those who are used to it. On top of that we were stopping every half-an-hour or so to fix our position and take bearings to any landmarks we could see. And so far, nothing so very odd--from my point of view--had yet occurred. In the wild one encounters wildlife; and if the wildlife is sufficiently abundant, some finite fraction is likely to find its way into one's belongings. It is only natural.

On the third day I ceased asking questions, in a desperate bid to become more socially acceptable, and once more we played cards late into the evening. I woke once, briefly, feeling as though someone had perhaps touched me or shaken me in some way. I sat up in my bedding, there under the trees, and looked around; the camp was still, and shaking my head, I quickly lay down and was soon asleep once more. Some time later I was dreaming that I was trapped in a Seljurkian bath, and that the sadistic attendant was sitting on my chest and scrubbing at me with a course, heavy towel. Eventually I become so uncomfortable that I woke up, only to find that my dream was largely true. Some large black creature was engaged in licking every inch of my exposed bedding from my nose down to my toes. It had one heavy paw planted firmly on my chest.

I froze, of course, and let the creature have its way with me. It is easy to freeze when a large black creature of unknown species has a paw on your chest to keep you from moving. I suppose one wants to avoid attracting attention to oneself, foolish though that sounds. I lay there for what seemed like hours, breathing as softly as I could and trying not to move a muscle, even when it shifted its paw and its claws dug in a trifle. Dull claws, I must say, more like a dog's than a cat's, though this creature was clearly rather larger than Bruno. Where was Bruno? I asked myself. Why was Bruno allowing this large importunate creature to taste my bedding so intimately?

In due course it removed its paw, and began snuffling about my toes. Rejecting them, which I thought showed good taste, it moved up to my face; I nearly choked as its warm, moist muzzle passed over me. The aroma of its breath, slightly sweet, was nearly overpowering. Apparently it didn't think much of my face, either, for it gave my blanket one or two final licks, and waddled off, scuffling through the leaf mould. It vanished from sight long before the noise of its passage died away. When I was sure it had left, I sat up to take inventory. My blanket was rather soggy, and a bit sticky, and my heart was pounding, but otherwise I was little the worse for my experience. I lay back down, and began to ponder.

Why had whatever it was wanted to taste my bedding so thoroughly? Why my bedding, and not Carbuncle's? For that matter, why hadn't my visitor been frightened off by Carbuncle's snoring? He slept not ten feet away. And where was Bruno? He had slept at my feet the previous night, but there was no sign of him.

Even an old fool can see through a brick wall in time, as my father used to say. A snake in my bed; a toad in my boot; a large animal of unknown provenance giving me (and me alone) a head-to-toe tongue bath; and these on three successive nights. Clearly someone was being clever. That touch I had felt; clearly someone had put something on me to attract the animal, just as they had put the toad in my boot and the snake in my bed. Humph, I said to myself. Perhaps I had been a little too eager with my questions, but this was hardly called for. I knew how to deal with this sort of practical joke, though, and this sort of practical joker. Smiling, I turned over and went back to sleep. I would have my revenge in the morning.

I arose at the usual time, just in time for breakfast, and dressed rapidly. My blankets were still a little clammy, but I rolled them up carefully, shaking them first to remove the bits of leaf and gravel from the underside. I packed the rest of my things quickly, sealing my bag. On my way to breakfast I walked casually around the camp. Peeking out of the top of Philpott's bag I noticed a box of salt. There was no reason why it shouldn't have been there; every expedition carries plenty of salt. Not only is it a preservative, but camp food can be rather dull without it. On the other hand, there was no particular reason why it should be at the top, rather than the bottom; the Zymurgian cook had his own stock of salt and other spices, and used them to good effect. Glancing about to see that I was unobserved, I picked up the box and shook it gently; it was only about half full. That was distinctly odd, as we hadn't done any of our own cooking since the day we left Pelham. I growled deep in my throat as I returned the box to its place; things were becoming clearer.

Having completed my investigations, I went and got my bowl of porridge. I smiled broadly at the cook, and greeted him cheerfully. He smiled back. I smiled at my colleagues. I smiled at my Zymurgian friends. I asked how everyone had slept, and allowed how I had slept very well indeed. I made no mention of the thing that had accosted me in the night, and I watched everyone's expressions very carefully. I noticed that Bruno was lying by Hodgin's feet. Hodgins, perhaps? Cadbury seemed to be smirking, but then that was habitual. Carbuncle merely greeted me warmly, as did Philpott and Asha. Had it been Philpott?

Everyone seemed cheerful, and glad to see me; I didn't notice any one particular person who seemed more interested in my night's sleep than the others. Had I been mistaken? Had I dreamed it? I thought of my clammy blankets, and the toad, and the snake, and thought not. It would be necessary to raise the stakes a trifle. I put down my tin cup of juice.

"I say, Carbuncle, that toad I found yesterday reminded me of something."

"And that would be, Leon?" said Carbuncle, not looking up from his bowl.

"Do you remember the time in Anselms? When a wild boar ran through our tent in the middle of the night?" I was looking at Carbuncle, mostly, but I tried to keep a corner of an eye on the others.

Carbuncle laughed and put down his bowl.

"I suppose it's accurate to say that the beastie ran through our tent, Leon, but a little misleading, wouldn't you say?"

"What happened?" asked Hodgins.

"Evidently," I said, "we had pitched our tent across an animal run. It was a dark night, and a dark green tent. It was warm, so we had the tent flap folded back."

"About halfway toward morning," continued Carbuncle, "we were awakened by a drumming noise. It was loud to begin with, and getting steadily louder. We had just pegged the sounds as hoofbeats when something ran straight into our tent, went right between us, and the next moment the tent was gone. The something had bowled into the back of the tent, which was sealed shut, you know, and had taken the tent with it, stakes and all."

"And then," I said, "there was a horrible crashing noise and some angry squealing."

"Muffled squealing, Leon, muffled squealing."

"Muffled squealing indeed, Thomas," I agreed. "The creature, which was thoroughly tangled in the remains of our tent, had fallen into a nearby gully, and was thrashing about wildly."

"What did you do, Leon?" asked Philpott.

"We killed it. Ate very well for several days, we did," said Carbuncle. "Bit of a sad thing, of course, but wild boars are too dangerous to trifle with. And it had broken a leg as well."

I kept a close eye on my companions as we related the old story. Did Philpott and Asha share a knowing glance? I thought they did. Did Cadbury smirk a little more broadly? Was that a fit of coughing on Hodgins' part, or was he stifling laughter? It was time to escalate once more.

On the previous night, someone had seen fit to turn me into a human salt lick. I'd go straight for the jugular.

"Could someone please pass me the salt?" I asked mildly.

Hodgins stared at me, and started coughing again.

"Did you say a little more salt, Leon?" asked Carbuncle, dead pan.

"Why, no, Thomas. I didn't."

"Oh, I thought you did."

Philpott was pursing his lips, trying to hide a grin. Asha said something to him that I didn't catch, and her grin was too big to hide. Mukden started to laugh out loud.

"What did she say, Cadbury?" I demanded. His eyes were beginning to bulge slightly.

"She said, 'What did he do with all of the salt we gave him last night?', Hakim Effendi."

"Perhaps a neighbor borrowed it?" asked Mukden.

This was too much for Hodgins, who blurted out a muffled "Excuse me!" and vanished behind the trees. I could hear him falling all over himself with laughter.

"A fine crew you are," I said, becoming angry. "I could have been eaten alive last night. I suppose I should be grateful that the creature's meal was properly seasoned. Frankly, I'm surprised you you didn't just spit me and roast me first."

"Take it easy, old chap," said Carbuncle. "You were in no danger at all."

"No danger? Let's season you tonight, then, shall we? Perhaps you'll change your mind when a huge beast is leaning on your chest!" This brought forth another round of laughter.

"It was nothing but a squamunk," said Philpott. "They're harmless vegetarians. They just like salt."

"A squamunk, eh? And just how big is a squamunk?" I asked.

Mukden held a hand about a foot above the ground. "About so high," he said.

"They're evidently a kind of rodent," said Philpott. "There's a colony over in the meadow."

"So high?" I asked, holding my own hand about a foot above the ground. They nodded. "So high? And yet somehow it managed to keep me pinned to the ground with one paw?" More laughter. Somehow, I felt, they weren't taking me seriously, and I finished my porridge and my fruit juice in a sullen silence. I had the last laugh, though, between moments of feeling ill, because just then the bear came shuffling back into the camp, preceded by a horrified Hodgins. Everyone shrieked, and it was truly gratifying and a blessing to my ears.